


If I Had To Choose A Rose In This Garden Of Romance

by revenblue



Series: [collection] but you keep spinning 'round me just the same [7]
Category: Phineas and Ferb
Genre: Blow Jobs, First Time, M/M, POV Second Person, Perry is a flower prince, platypuses have weird anatomy yo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-02
Updated: 2017-12-02
Packaged: 2019-02-09 09:50:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12885318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/revenblue/pseuds/revenblue
Summary: Perry the Platypus shows up as his own bouquet of flowers and you're kinda into that.





	If I Had To Choose A Rose In This Garden Of Romance

**Author's Note:**

> Behold, the surprisingly-coherent result of NaNoWriMo :P  
> (This and like... 20 other plot bunnies. Whoops.)

The door slams down, right on time, and you spin around. "Perry the Platypus, you're-" you say, before you stop to take in his appearance.

Of all the things you could have seen him wear, the pale orange flowers woven into his vivid teal fur was the last thing you expected. Probably. You'd never even considered the possibility, but that didn't say much, as you'd been just as surprised three times this week already. The lawn flamingo disguise in particular-

You're getting ahead of yourself. "You're _adorable_ ," you say, grinning at him. Because he is.

Even when he's glaring at you like he's currently glaring at you, which is his "why are you doing this" face.

The reason is, of course, because he's adorable and suave and really quite attractive-

You shut _that_ thought down before you can distract yourself with the thought of his perfect little hands holding you down and-

Anyway.

"What brought this on?" you ask. "Are you trying to _woo_ me with your charms? Because let me tell you, it's working."

The eyeroll he gives you is, in hindsight, expected. Then he tugs at a flower on his shoulder, completely failing to remove it from his fur.

His look of disgust at it is somehow even more endearing. It makes him seem so... what's the word... it's on the tip of your tongue... personable? Fallible? Something like that.

Either way, you rush forward. "Here, let me-"

Surprisingly he _does_ let you, staring off into the distance while you untangle the stem like he's pretending it's not happening. Which is fine, it wouldn't be the first time, you're used to it.

"When was the last time you combed your fur?" you ask, finally pulling the flower free. You have no idea what type of flower it is, you've never been good with plants, but it's surprisingly fragrant for its small size. "It's all _knotty_ and _tangled_ and that can't be comfortable at all."

He makes a face at that.

"This morning?" you guess, and he nods, tail drooping behind him. "Ouch, what happened _there_? No wait, come on in, you can have a cup of tea while I get the rest of these flowers out. How's that sound?"

He flashes you a smile that's so _genuine_ you can't help but blush. Straightening up before he can see how red your cheeks are, you wave him in and pick up the door behind him, leaning it back into the frame. It's not a long-term solution, but it'll hold for a while and it's better than leaving it wide open. Besides, it only has to last until Perry the Platypus leaves.

Speaking of which, you turn back to where Perry the Platypus has climbed up onto the table in your kitchen. He looks quite majestic in the morning sunlight streaming in through the window, with the flowers still in his fur, looking for all the world like he's some sort of forest spirit. A _nice_ forest spirit, even, not like the ones in Gimmelshtump-

He sees you staring at him and narrows his eyes.

You jump, doing your best to act like you _weren't_ just gazing at him like a lovestruck teenager. "I'm coming, sheesh! Learn to have some _patience_ , Perry the Platypus," you complain, and he rolls his eyes again.

Sometimes you have to wonder how he puts up with you. After all, you're obnoxious, abrasive, unpleasant, unlikable, _Evil_ -

Really, you'd think the last one would be a dealbreaker for him, Good Guy that he is, but apparently not.

And he's still waiting for you, looking increasingly grumpy by the second, so you metaphorically kick your butt into gear before he comes over to do it literally. "Why are you even sitting on the table anyway, it's not _hygienic_..."

* * *

A few minutes later, while he's sipping on the cup of tea you made, still sitting on the table _despite_ your complaining, you get to work. It doesn't take long to settle into a comfortable routine, rambling away as you tease out the flowers from his back, his arms, his chest, his legs-

Out of nowhere, he chirrs.

"What was that, Perry the Platypus?" you say, straightening up to look him in the eyes. Or at least you try to. He's dodging your gaze, like he's... embarrassed? What does _he_ have to be embarrassed about-

Then you glance down.

Poking through his fur, less than an inch from your fingers, is something that can only be his dick. It's visibly alien, the bifurcated tips twitching independently of each other, thin and spiky at the end, and you want to touch it. You want to wrap your hands around it, your lips, your mouth, until he's coming down your throat-

You look back up at his face, taking in the controlled steadiness of his breathing, the tenseness of his jaw, the way he's still not looking at you. "Do you want me to stop?" you ask, quietly. "I can if you want me to."

No reaction. He doesn't even _twitch_ , he's that still.

"Or," you continue, on impulse, "I can keep going."

His breath hitches. _Bingo_.

You pull the flower on his thigh free and smooth down his fur. "Would you like that, Perry the Platypus?" He would, you know he would, but you need to see him say it. Gesture it. Whatever.

Silence falls over you, and you pull your hand back before you can give into the urge to touch him anyway, but eventually, _at last_ , he nods.

"Okay," you say, letting out a breath you hadn't known you were holding. "Okay. How are we gonna do this? Quick and dirty, or do you want to take our time with it?"

His eyes widen at the second one and he nods again.

Slow and sensual, huh? You'd be lying if you said you hadn't thought about it, leading him back to your bedroom to make sweet love-

And he's glaring at you again.

"Perry the Platypus, you have really got to work on that patience thing." Not like you're much better, if you're honest with yourself. But at least you admit your hypocrisy. "If you want me to stop, just, punch me in the face or something."

That gets you a thumbs-up, and the hint of a smile. His smiles are always dazzling, lighting up his face like nothing else, and your heart with it.

You grin back at him, relieved. "So should we take this to the _bedroom_ or are you good right here?"

He swings his tail around beside him and leans back on his elbows, his cute little webbed feet still dangling over the edge of the chair, so confident and suave with his dick in full view. It's simultaneously nothing like and _everything_ like you'd imagined.

And it's as clear an answer as you're going to get, so, "You're good? You're good." He is _so_ good, on display for you like this, closing his eyes when you brush a thumb along the underside of his dick. His skin is cool to the touch, which you weren't expecting at all, and already slick with precum. Or something closely resembling it, you don't know what platypuses have going on down there, you've never asked.

Before you can stop yourself, you lean in to press a kiss to his shaft, and he squeaks. Full-on high-pitched _squeak_ , and you've never heard any sound more endearing.

"You like that?" you whisper against him, and his dick twitches. "Yeah, you do." Which is a shame, because you're supposed to be taking your time.

To that end you move to kiss down his leg, removing another stray flower as you go, until you reach his foot. It's so different up close, where you can see the claws on his toes, and the way they curl in when you poke the middle of his sole. You're not sure why you didn't do this _earlier_ , his feet are adorable. You never would have known. This is your first opportunity, other than, well, all those times he kicked you in the face. But those don't count.

You press another kiss to the heel and he tugs his foot away, growling at you. Seriously, he's so _difficult_ sometimes. "Don't blame _me_ , Perry the Platypus, _you_ were the one who wanted to take this slowly." Then you move to his other foot, working your way back up to the sound of _no_ complaining but definitely an eyeroll. You'll take it.

He rolls his hips too, once you reach them. Such an impatient little platypus.

"I'll get there, don't worry," you murmur, leaning over him to kiss the tip of his bill. He blinks at that, expression softening with the lack of his usual glare, looking so adorable that you have to kiss him again. This time, you linger, curling a hand behind his head. It's not what you'd imagined kissing him would be like, but it's _nice_. Definitely better in person.

He chirrs at you again, fingers digging into your shirt, and you pull back to stare into his stunning brown eyes. Without the intense staring he usually has going on, he looks like a much younger platypus. Younger than you'd assumed he was. After all, he was always so _serious_ and _mature_ -

You have to ask. "Have you ever done this before, Perry the Platypus? Any of this?"

All you get in response is a shrug, like it doesn't matter.

"Of course it _matters_ ," you say, absent-mindedly teasing out another flower from his fur. "You're- It's the principle of the thing!"

He gives you a Look, like he doesn't believe you, but you know you're right. His first time is supposed to be _special_. It's, like, a _rule_.

You comb your fingers through his fur again. Not because there are any flowers there, this time, but because you _can_. Because he'll _let you_. And it's so soft that you can't help yourself. "If you say so," you say, not meaning a word. He's so strong too, firm muscle hiding under the gorgeously fluffy teal fur.

With a body like this, it's a wonder he wants _you_. He could have his pick of nemesis, or platypus, or... anyone really. But no, he thwarts _your_ schemes, and you're forever grateful for that.

So you kiss his bill again, and again and again and again, to show him just how much you appreciate everything he does for you, how much you appreciate _him_. And if that means you get to hear more of his little squeaks, well, you're not complaining.

You're _especially_ not complaining when he twists his paws into your shirt and tugs you closer to rub his bill against your cheek. Although you do blush. How could you not?

He's blushing too, you think, when he lets you up. There's a faint tinge of pink in his cheeks, behind his fur, and the corner of his mouth is curled up in the most adorable smile you've ever seen him wear.

"Is that how platypuses kiss?" you ask, untangling another flower from his chest. It's _alien_ , like the rest of him, surprisingly flat from his strong shoulders right down to his still-twitching dick. You forget, sometimes, just how not-human he is. Not that you mind, he's perfect just the way he is. You trail a hand over where his belly button would be if he had one, and he arches into you with a quiet moan.

If you weren't already hard, that would have done it. Hearing his voice is rare enough as it is, nearly as rare as his smiles, but you'd never imagined you'd hear him like _this_. Not even in your wildest dreams, the ones where he lives with you in pure domestic bliss, making love under the stars and the pale moonlight-

You hiss through your teeth, palming at your dick through your pants to take the edge off. "Because I could get used to that," you say like you hadn't stopped talking, trying to keep your voice light. From the way he looks at you, you're not sure you succeeded.

Then you run your tongue along his dick, because it's _right there_ and you can't help yourself, and he doesn't look at you like much of anything.

How can he, when he's closing his eyes, clenching his fists, breathless in front of you. _Beautiful_ , with his hat askew and fur attractively dishevelled. You can taste him on your tongue, musky, _intoxicating_ , and you want to lick him again and again until he's twisting his fingers into your hair and crying out-

You shouldn't. Not yet. The sooner you do it, the sooner it's _over_ , and you know it's selfish but you never want it to end.

It's Evil, you think. Keeping him here with _you_ when you know he could be off doing Good Guy things. Stealing time with him you never really _earned_. You wish-

He rolls his hips again, silently begging for more, and you lose your train of thought. With the way he looks splayed out on the table for you, how could you not? He's staring at you now from under hooded eyes, breath rapid like your own, his furred chest rising and falling with it, and you feel yourself smile at him.

If seeing him like this is Evil, you never want to be anything else.

"Do you have any idea how _handsome_ you look right now, Perry the Platypus?" Because he is. He always is, of course, but the fact he looks like this _for you and you alone_ really adds to the whole effect. And the flowers still woven into his tail.

You turn your attention to them, digging your fingers into the thick fur just to hear him gasp while you pull the flowers free. Apparently his tail's sensitive, who knew? It sure didn't seem sensitive all those times he'd slapped you in the face with it. Then again it's hard to believe the same cute little paws that beat you into submission every day can be so gentle when they're wrapped around your finger. Same sort of thing, really.

The point is. You still need to get these flowers out, and it doesn't matter if you're taking your time, it's not like he's _complaining_ -

A growl grabs your attention and you look up at him and his "get a move on" look. Okay, so he _might_ be complaining. But it's not _your_ fault he's so mesmerising, with all his little noises and the way he arches into your hands and the fact he's actually letting you do this. Especially that last one.

What _is_ your fault is how desperate he looks, tense and wanting. "What, am I going too _slow_ for you? Is that it?" You leisurely tease out another flower anyway, unhurried despite his impatience.

He nods. It's a distinctly _unleisurely_ nod, like he wants you to get to the point sooner rather than later. And by "the point" you're pretty sure he means his dick.

"So _impatient_ ," you say, rubbing a thumb against the base of it where it pokes out of his cloaca. The twin heads twitch again, and he whines at you, paws curling around the edge of the table. "You know that? No patience at all." You're exaggerating, of course. He's more patient with you than anyone else is.

Before he loses the last of it, and someday you've got to tell him how much you admire his restraint, you slide your hand up and wrap it around his dick. The noise he makes as you stroke it is the best thing you've heard all _year_.

Really, you have _got_ to do this more often. If he's fine with it, of course.

Which, something tells you he'll definitely be fine with it. Mostly the way he's bucking up into your hand and moaning like he can't get enough, so _shameless_ that you can't help but groan with him.

You never would have expected it from him, if you're honest. He's always so _uptight_. Never talks about his _feelings_ , just punches you in the face and calls it a day. But here he is, writhing against you, the exact opposite of his usual unyielding self.

He is, you decide, unreasonably attractive right now. And you do mean "unreasonable". He shouldn't be allowed to look this good, it's unfair to everyone else. Then again, you have no intention of sharing. He's _your_ nemesis, _your_ best friend, he came to _you_ for help.

Speaking of which, there's only a few flowers left in his fur, so you set to work digging them out with your other hand. He trusts you to do this for him and you're not going to let him down _now_ , not even with his oh-so-distracting gasps going straight to your dick.

Okay, maybe they're a little too distracting.

You straighten up, stripping off quickly and pressing your face to his crotch the way you've been wanting to from the start. His dick fits in your mouth like it was made to be there, or maybe you just think that because you _want_ it to be right, but either way you can't get enough of him. You pull back, just far enough for you to slide your tongue between the twin tips of his dick, and he really does thread his fingers into your hair. It hurts but you don't _care_ about that right now, the same way you don't care how scratchy the spiky tips of his dick are on your tongue. How can you when he sounds this good.

Because he does, gasping every time your tongue finds a sensitive spot, letting out a strangled moan when you start humming his theme song because what else are you going to do, really, and you'd never realised just how much you want this. Sure, you'd _fantasised_ , more than you'd care to admit, but it's different when you can taste his precum, hear his ragged breathing, feel his jittery pulse against your tongue-

His dick twitches again and you feel the first rush of his cum in your mouth. It's thick and salty and you eagerly swallow it down just in time for the next wave, and the next, and on and on until he has nothing left to give-

You grab at your dick, barely touching it before you're coming too.

When you open your eyes again, he's still breathless, _clearly_ dazed, tail twitching slightly but otherwise not moving. He's _beautiful_.

The floor isn't, it's cold and hard under your knees, so you pull yourself to you feet and drape yourself along the table next to him, propping yourself up on your elbow. Just as uncomfortable but the _view's_ great. From here, you watch him as he comes to his senses, face twisting. Somehow he can make even a grimace look adorable.

Anyway.

"So, Perry the Platypus," you say, and he glances at you mid-stretch. "How does it feel to be-" You pause, tugging the last flower from his fur and booping it against his bill. "- _deflowered_?"

**Author's Note:**

> The flowers _probably_ aren't actually roses. I don't know, though, I have about as much of a green thumb as Heinz does and I think we all know how _that_ turned out.
> 
> Anyways, this is pretty much much a typical example of my writing. The second person pov, the interspecies Perryshmirtz, the long title... The _pun_... (I'm not sorry for that btw. :3)
> 
> Title obviously comes from [Sakura Kiss](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Cs5iYa0gM78) from Ouran High School Host Club. (Not sorry about _that_ either.)
> 
>  
> 
> **Bonus:**
>
>> He drives his foot into your stomach, looking absolutely _disgusted_ with you.
>> 
>> You double over, wheezing. But, "Worth it."


End file.
